Outsmarted
by FlutterMouse
Summary: "The recoil of the shot sent ripples running up Misa's slender arms, but she remained steady. By the time the police arrived, she was sobbing helplessly in the corner, and the look on her face was that of a broken angel." Misa is not the ditzy little airhead that Kira mistakes her for. Misa makes sure he knows it.


**I completed four exams today, and I've given myself the evening off as far as revision goes! My plan, initially, was to spend it grinning to myself and scrolling through Tumblr, but needless to say, I found some inspiration somewhere and... surprise, surprise,** _ **oneshot!**_

 **(And shockingly, coming from me, it's not Mello-centric! What?!)**

 **This one has been brewing in my mind for a while now. Not explicitly the idea for this fanfiction, but just generally the notion that I wanted to write something like it. Misa has always been, ever since I watched Death Note, one of my favourite "what-if"s. I mean, there was just so much potential there. There were probably a million different ways that the canon could've made her badass. A million different ways she could've been something more than "just a silly blonde model girl."**

 **So while writing this, I thought, I want to bring that out of her. I want to write her as I think she should've been written, because the females in that show got nowhere near enough respect. She's still adorable, she's still blonde and she still talks the same way, but this Misa isn't some dumb pawn. She knows shit. She's been playing Light this whole time.**

* * *

Misa had a smile which could finish wars.

Or, if she so decided, a smile which could start them.

* * *

"Please... don't do this," he had begged her, and it had been a truly pitiful sight, in the end. A young man standing on the verge of infinite promise, a man who took calculated chances and skipped through the minefields others spent years struggling to navigate. Here he was, his freshly-ironed baby-blue interview shirt ripped and stained with blood. His hair, which he knew exactly how to swish when he required somebody's attention, dishevelled and in places, burnt. His apartment was a mess, strewn with papers, the sofa toppled, the glass coffee table smashed into shards. Glass powder coated the floor where he knelt, gazing up with pleading eyes at the one cold certainty he could rely on: death.

Misa didn't want to tarnish the moment with any throwback remarks. Here he was. This specimen... this wicked, pathetic little man... a sociopath with no consideration for the opposite sex. She never usually felt a personal satisfaction when on the job; maybe it was the extent of his sexism which had instilled it within her, but nonetheless, she could feel a smile creeping onto her lips as she flicked the safety off of her gun. This was what she wanted. This was what she'd always wanted. No man - especially not _this_ man, this conceited, cold-hearted snake of a man - should have the power to decide who lives and who dies.

"Misa..."

The whimper was soft, barely audible, but through the silence of the apartment, Misa caught it and she cherished it. Her hands - dressed up in the same lacy black gloves she'd been wearing when she arrived - angled downwards, pointing the gun so that it rested right between the snake's eyes. If he weren't so close to crying, he might've noticed how steady her hands were and admired her for it, appreciated and valued her as the skilled assassin she was. Maybe he'd have viewed her as more than a stupid woman, but no, he was too far gone for that. Either way, it didn't matter. He wouldn't be alive for long.

Her smile broadened. She would've smiled wider, were it not for the split in her lip, still sealing over. That split was what had sparked tonight's little all-or-nothing. She'd spent all day contemplating over whether or not _now_ was the right time to make her final move, and that split had sealed the deal. He'd been angry, yes. Irrational, yes. The punch had come out of nowhere, accompanied by the accursed, "Misa, will you shut _up_!"

And she had known.

Oh, she had _known._

* * *

The grand death of Kira wasn't dramatic, in the end. There was no chase, no frenzied speech, no last cry of " _I am justice!_ " to send him on his merry way. No... in a way, his death humanized him. One quick crack of a gun, and his body gave a great shudder before falling backwards. He might've even looked peaceful, lying there in the glass dust, were it not for the gooey red mess where his forehead had burst open.

The recoil of the shot sent ripples running up Misa's slender arms, but she remained steady. She remained for only a moment to survey her handiwork before removing the gloves she was wearing, picking her way across the crime scene and sliding them into the pockets of one of her matching dresses. She then undressed herself, put on some sexy pyjamas (taking a moment, naturally, to pose in front of the mirror like an empowered goddess), and applied some mascara, which she allowed to run down her cheeks as the fake tears fell.

By the time the police arrived, she was sobbing helplessly in the corner, and the look on her face was that of a broken angel. Everyone took her word when she blubbered out that there had been a break-in. She wasn't even considered a worthy suspect... but then, she'd made sure of that.

* * *

"Light Yagami. Just after he's eaten dinner. Shot in the head by the only woman in his apartment. She is never suspected, nor convicted, of his murder."

* * *

 **I hope this oneshot lived up to your expectations, and congratulations if you made it this far and my feminism didn't scare you away. (If anyone can point me to any good DN fanfics concerning respected!Misa and Takada, please send me a message. I'd love to read them.)**

 **If you liked reading this, or there's anything you want to say about it (if you're going to reinforce the canon and tell me I'm dumb for wanting better female representation in DN, don't bother), then please review. It honestly brightens my day a whole load, and especially during exam time, it's nice to hear. Thanks again, and have a nice day!**

 **Also, as a final note, I'd just like to add that this fic is not meant to belittle men in any way. Light, sure, because he's a dickwad, but not men as a whole. Feminism does not equal hating men; that's called misandry. What I really want is gender equality, but since there's so little of that in DN I felt like I kind of had to hype up the feminine side of this fic to make it work.**


End file.
